Lost In Paradise
by KingTHiddy
Summary: Halec Vandra is a girl from a boat city. After she meets a hooded figure in the streets, she pursues to uncover his story. Its a little harder than it seems
1. Prologue

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO! This is a prologue of my story, Lost In Paradise! I hope you get intrigued by it and want more, because more is on its way!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN LOKI/ANY MARVEL CHARACTER.

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**PROLOUGE**

**Loki sat in the chambers, letting the sunlight stroke his face with a loving touch. He sorely needed that now. A loving touch. A kiss on his cheek. He knew the time was approaching fast. He had to reach the church, to say goodbye. Loki rose to his feet, straightening out his black waistcoat. A golden chain hung from his pocket. He pulled at it and out came a locket. A slight smile tugged his harsh lips. It was neither heavy nor expensive. It was circular, light and had lost its shine. Clearly someone had been touching it too much. The engraving on the front read:**

_We shall walk among stars, my prince, for our love knows no equal. Our love spans universes; it is something every soul desires. We are one, and will never be apart._

**Tears smudged his view and a cry climbed up his throat, but he desperately gulped it down, and rubbed his eyes. She wouldn't want him to be this. His legs betrayed, though; they shook and shivered as he stared at the golden locket. His finger pressed the top, revealing and opening the locket. Inside, there was a picture of her in all her glory. The photograph mocked him with her beautiful golden eyes, shining like the jewellery she once wore, and her painted smile across her face, and her brown hair cascading down her face like melted chocolate. It had always been his favourite picture of her. He'd taken it on Midgard. The London skyline was behind her. Big Ben, the Shard, Canary Wharf, or whatever silly names mortals had for their buildings, were all standing behind her. His finger moved over the pictured cheekbone.**

"**I..." He paused, taking a look around, making sure no one was around. He didn't want anyone to see his sentiment. Especially right now. He looked back at the photograph. "I miss you. You left me. Y-you said you wouldn't. You prom-"**

"**Daddy?" A small voice interrupted him. Loki looked round and saw his daughter, dressed in a black dress, with a black veil covering her face. It was beautiful, considering the occasion. He put the locket away, and walked over to her. He slipped his fingers under the veil and pulled it up, to reveal the child's face.**

"**Yes, princess?" He asked, kneeling to her height. He gazed in to the little girl's eyes. Golden. She had her mother's eyes alright. **

"**When's Mummy coming home?" the little girl asked, blinking. Oh how innocent.**

"**Mummy...isn't going to be home for a while. She's gone far away." Loki sighed, trying to scratch away the tears from his voice. The little girl sniffed and stared at him, tearfully.**

"**I am going to miss her, daddy." She whined, her arms instantly wrapping around her father. Loki winced in sadness and lifted his little girl from the ground.**

"**I miss her too." He murmured sadly. "Come on, we've got to say goodbye to her." He walked over to his bed, carrying his daughter, and put on his top hat. He then headed out. To the funeral that awaited him. **


	2. Chapter 1 - The Cloaked Figure

**authour's note: hELLO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I hope you guys like it. Its the very beginning of my story. Dont forget to review as they are the cookies to my monster. ;D EHEHE ENJOY**

**CHAPTER ONE – The Cloaked Figure**

My name is Halec Vandra. Strange name right? Many people just call me Hal, for short. So I guess it all starts here. This is where my story begins.

It all started in the Realm Eternal, on the planet Asgard. Asgard, infested with shimmering gold buildings and silver plated armoured guards, their vulture-like gazes scanning all. You get the picture. Though, my story begins in a less appealing city. The city of Grasia. Grasia is small harbour city. Boats used to sail into port, unload their goods, and sail off into the horizon. The goods were hurried off to Asgard, to feed the masses. Grasia was unpopular, but a brilliant place to play hide and seek. I was 23 when it all began.

I groaned as my eyes opened, and watched as the sun ghosted into the room, its long bright arms creeping onto the wooden floorboards. The sun was the only light in the dusty, cobwebbed room and that's the way I liked it. I loved the dark. The dark was my friend. I sat up and moved my short brown hair onto my shoulder. I took a deep breath, letting the aroma of fish and oil and the sea seep into my nostrils. It smelt foul at first, but I had grown accustomed to the smell, and it stunk reasonably pleasant. After getting dressed into a plain, simple, beige dress, I yawned and made my way downstairs. My bare feet pattered down the spiral staircase, wincing at the cold marble surface. Once at the bottom, I looked round. My house was never very big, I made do. The living room possessed a brown fur sofa, where a bear blanket laid loosely across it. A fireplace stood proudly in the middle of the room. I hinted a smirk, remembering the times when the fire roared, its flame blazing.

They were good memories. After getting breakfast and filling my stomach, I ventured outside, letting the narrow streets take hold of me.

The narrow, slender streets were shining in the sun's rays and hardly anyone was out today. I knew why. It was the Parade of The Kings, where the royal family of Asgard would take tour around its neighbouring cities. I didn't care much about the royals, and didn't see what the big deal was about. All I knew about the royals was that a small, old Allfather was king, and a fair lady was his Queen. They had two sons together. Thor was the only name I remembered.

As I was so caught up in my thoughts, I never realised that I bumped into someone. I mumbled an apology, and then faced up at the person who I'd bumped into. They were a dark cloak, hood up, but I could still see a long slender nose poking out from the shadows.

"Better watch where you're going." His voice rang out, harshly. I stood up to my feet and glared at him.

"Why are you wearing that cloak?" I asked, pointing to the suspicious clothing which fluttered slightly in the light breeze. A sigh emitted from under the hood.

"Does there have to be reason?" He groaned, seemingly annoyed. He definitely sounded higher-class, unlike most people in Grasia. He was clearly not from around here.

"Y-Yes." I replied timidly. "Yes, there does." I repeated, sounding a bit brave. I felt the eyes from underneath the hood stare into my soul, drilling into me.

"I do not want the royals to see me." The voice said quieter, as if he didn't want me to know that. The man looked away as we heard the crowd cheering. I was still confused. I wanted answers.

"Why?" I frowned, tilting my head. The voice gulped.

"Because they do not want to see me." The voice replied. I swear I heard tears in their voice. I lunged, quickly, pulling down their hood.

It was him. The prince who I had forgotten. Loki Laufeyson. His eyes, so cold, displayed his pain perfectly. He didn't even need to tell me what had happened, I could read his story from his eyes. His ivory skin was stretched against his skull, his cheekbones trying to pierce the gentle skin. Dark circles ran down from his eyes, as if eye liner had been smudged onto his eyes. His nose was long and slender. Short strands of ash black hair fell down his face. His lips were slightly parted, and were a faded pink, and small against his mouth. On closer inspection, I saw 8 holes on his mouth. 4 on the top lip, 4 on the bottom. What had happened to this guy? Before I could ask, though, he pushed my hand away with his, swooped his hood up, and disappeared in a flash of blue. When the blue smoke had faded, Loki was gone.


	3. Chapter 2 - Secrets Under Skin

**AUTHOR'S NOTE - Hello guys! I've updated! Hope you guys like this! I based Zezran on Luke Evans :) This is where things start to pick up pace!**

**CHAPTER TWO – Secrets under Skin**

I was stunned, stood in the street like a statue, my feet frozen as ice. Yet my mind was buzzing racing, like bees around honey. I stared at the space where the cloaked figure. Why was Loki here? He was a prince!...Wasn't he? The state he was in, it was almost like he wasn't a prince. More of a beggar, with the cuts and wounds and the dirt smudged. I decided to think nothing of it and walked off.

I walked down a wider street as I came closer to the town centre. People were rushing past me, their objectives and destinations firmly locked into their brains. I was pushed into flurry of bodies, like being in a rapid stream, its water pushing you wherever you needed to go. Though I never liked big crowds, I guess I just had to deal with it. Luckily, I broke out of the crowd, and into a library.

Once in the library, I let the warm air hit my face. I took a look around, the familiar sight soothed my frantic brain after what happened earlier. The walls were wooden, brown with age, and cobwebs were knitted in a perfect way in the corner. The webs glittered brightly with dust, though the spider was thankfully nowhere to be seen. I walked forward, the floorboards groaning and creaking underneath my weight. My footsteps echoed off the walls. Bookshelves, like towers, stood high against the walls, packed with the forest of books. Pages and pages of stories, alongside scrolls and artistic novels. Books always fascinated me. You can just open a page and read about someone's life. You can read through their pain or their love. Isn't that great? Well, I thought so. The forest of books was my friends when I had none. The stories of warriors slaying dragons, princes saving princesses, seemed to soothe me through times of heartache. Therefore, books were special to me. I love how the use of words could change how I felt. I found this intriguing. How someone could tell you how to feel, simply by putting a fictional character through different situations, whether they be happy or sad, scary or surprising.

I walked through the empty shop, pouting, and reached the Royals section. I guess I was curious to find out more about Loki. I narrowed my eyes, looking through the maze of spines.

_The Great War of Bore. No._

_Odin and The Jotuns. Nope._

_The Allfather Tree. GOT IT!_

I got the book out and took a seat at a desk. I flipped the book open, and coughed at the unexpected mist of dust. This book hadn't been open for years, centuries even; the dust cloud was so thick. I read the book, skimming through the words displayed before me. Then I found the man. It read:

_LOKI – THE GOD OF MISCHEIF  
- Loki is the second son of the Allfather Odin, and Allmother Frigga. He is said to be a master of magic. Many have described him as a wizard. But Prince Loki is also said to be a prankster (hence the title) and often pulled pranks on the servants and guards in the House of Odin when he was younger. He and his brother Thor have a close, loving brotherly relationship and they often venture together on battles together. _

My reading was interrupted by a scraping of a chair beside me. I knew instantly who it was. He sat beside me, a huge smile across his face. It was Zezran, my best friend. I and Zezran were close, we had practically grown up together, and we shared an unbreakable bond. Zezran had a golden leaved crown in his messy, black, mop-like hair, and wore a thin red shirt, and scruffy faded shorts. Sandals cuddled his feet. He had a strong build, muscles bulging out of his skin, threatening to burst the thin fabric. Dirt was smudged on his cheek. He'd been sparring with the Warriors of Asgard again. His dream was to survive the King, be a soldier, and fight for the world. I remember playing soldiers with him in the Meadows of Ariabon when we were young, with the sun beaming down on us.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, being aware of the strict no-talking rule. Zezran gave me a look of surprise.

"Hal, I came to find you. You don't remember what I said yesterday?" Zezran frowned, leaning closer to me. I shook my head. Zezran sighed. "You agreed that you were going to spar with me against the famous Warriors Three! They are only in town for day or two, and I want to beat them!"

I scoffed, "Zez, do you really think you can take on 3 physically fit, fully trained warriors? Including the Lady Sif?" Zezran smirked, childishly and sat back in the wooden chair.

"Oh, I have _other _things for the Lady Sif." He said craftily, rubbing his stubbled cheek. I burst into laughter, almost keeling over in my chair. I slapped him playfully. I'd known about his crush for Sif. He'd been to every army parade just to see her. After renting the book out, Zezran and I walked out of the library and out into the streets. We held hands, swinging our joined palms as we walked. I felt Zezran's gaze on me and I looked up at him.

"Yes?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why won't you come to the parade with me?" Zezran questioned. I sighed and looked away instantly, turning into an alleyway. The route was familiar to us.

"Because," I started, choosing my words carefully, "I don't see what the big deal is." I heard a scoff behind me.

"The big deal is that the **Allfather **and the **prince Thor** are coming to Grasia! To celebrate our unbroken bonds!" Zezran explained like it was obvious. I still saw nothing interesting in it.

"What about Prince Loki?" I asked, turning to him. Zezran's brown eyes widened and looked round, checking no one was here. He gripped my hand, leaned down to me and whispered.

"Prince Loki betrayed the King, Hal. His plan was to leave the Allfather in the Odin sleep, let the Jotuns sneak into Asgard and kill him in his sleep!" Zezran explained to me, seriously. I felt someone behind me. **We were not alone.  
**"If his plan had worked, Thor would have been forever banished, and that tyrant would be king. If he were, I would not serve him!" Zezran shook his head. This was obviously big to Zezran, as he was loyal and would always put his life on the line for the king. He sighed and continued.  
"After this, he was exiled from Asgard, fell into a vortex. He turned up a few years later on small, primitive planet of Midgard and he was sick. Sick both physically and mentally. He considered himself the rightful king of Asgard. I guess he thought if he couldn't be king of Asgard, why not Midgard? During his time in the vortex, he made friends with an alien race called the Chitarui. I have heard myths of them. They are disgusting and destroy everything in their path, like Bilsliem. Soon he was captured by a group called the Avengers and returned to Asgard."

"Where is he now?" I asked eager to find out more about this man. Zezran let go of my hand and straightened up.

"They say he is buried deep below is, in an underground cave. Odin sewed his lips together so he could never tell a lie again, as he was the God of Mischief and Lies. There, a serpent drips its home-grown venom onto his bare skin. This is his punishment. This is what he deserved. He killed 80 people in 2 days, Halec." Zezran almost pleaded with me as my face was horrified. Venom?! Odin sewed his own son's lips together, then to top it off, torture him?! That is NOT how to treat your son, whatever he's done.

"Very good. Very, very good, Zezran." A sinister voice drawled from behind me. I felt a ice cold hand curl around my neck to grasp my throat. I coughed and spluttered. Zezran frowned and clenched his fist, raising them, ready for a fight.

"RELEASE HER." Zezran ordered, his voice booming with anger. An evil chuckle was all he got in reply.

"There was only one thing you got wrong in your story." The voice projected. Zezran stared, not even flinching. "I was the rightful king. Betrayed by my own." I myself was thrown to the floor, grunting as I hit the hard pavement. A foot stomped onto my back, making me unable to move. As I stared up, tears blurring my vision. I saw Loki again, his skin blue, eyes stained blood red.

He was not human, but was ready for a fight.


	4. Chapter 3 - Help

**CHAPTER THREE – Help**

Zezran and Loki sized each other up, glancing at each other's bodies, seeing what they were going to have to deal with. Zezran lunged for Loki, punching him straight into the nose. The force of the blow made Loki stumble back. Blood flowed from Loki's nose like water from fountain. The god grunted and turned away from Zezran. Zezran scoffed.

"Is this all the God of Mischief can conjure? You are a pathetic shell of your former glory, Loki." Zezran boomed, yelling at the god. He laid his hand before me, helping me up. But my eyes glued to Loki. The man in the dark cloak was huddled in the corner, knees to his chest, his blood-drenched hands out in front, as if he was frightened. Zezran frowned. "What's he doing?" He asked me. I blinked. I felt sorry for the god. Everyone had spoken of him highly before the Bifrost incident. He was a prince, for Gods sakes. And here he was, cowering and shivering in the corner. I decided to walk closer to him. Zezran pulled at my sleeve, to which I replied with a glaring look, and he let go.

I knelt down by the god and watched him as he hid his face in his hands.

"D-Dont hurt me..." He whimpered, his voice shaky and tainted, spoiled with fear. I looked at Zezran and he nodded, agreeing not to hurt him.

"I will not hurt you." Zezran assured, but Loki was not budging. He sat in the corner, shivering like a naked man in Jotunheim. I sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. The cloak felt wet under my touch. I held my hand up and red liquid dripped from my skin.

"Blood." I breathed. I instantly began to rip Loki's cloak off. Zezran watched before helping me. The cloak stripped off the shaking figure like skin from an orange. My eyes widened at the sight before me.

Loki was completely naked without his cloak. His blue skin had vanished into pure white skin. It was like parchment, scars littered his body, showing the extent of torture. Some were old; some were fresh and still alive and bleeding. His toenails were yellow with neglect and dried blood was on the tips. He'd been scratching on the back of his carves; deep wounds lay there and bled down his heel. His arms had clearly been burned, blackened. Red, fresh flesh peeked through the charcoaled skin. Along his forearms were vertical, horizontal and diagonal slashes. It was unclear if Loki had done this to himself but they were deep. His spine and ribcage were both clearly showing. He looked like he hadn't eaten for days. On his back were clear whip scars, frantically scribbled down to his back. This man had been through so much torture. If his body was in this condition, one can only wonder about his mind.

I looked at Zezran with tears in my eyes. "I want to help him." I stated. I really did. I hated to see my friends with a graze, let alone this.

"Hal..." Zezran sighed. I knew two armies were at battle in his mind. "You can't. He needs a doctor."

I scoffed. "You really think a doctor will help him? They will send him back to the prison, and he will get tortured more!" I stared at him, tears falling down my cheek. I was desperate for him to understand. "Zezran..." My hands fell onto his. "Please. I just want to help him. Let me do this." This was unfair for Zezran. Zezran always believed that Odin's choices were correct and just. But he knew by what lay before him, that they were far from it. Zezran ran a burly hand through his hair and sighed.

"Alright. How far is your house?" Zezran nodded. I smiled a little, with relief.

"Not far." I replied, looking down to Loki. "Loki...Can you look at me?" Loki shook his head, shivering still. Wrapping the cloak around his naked figure, I watched him slowly calm down. "Loki, I'm going to take you home. I am going to get you better." I explained, standing up. "You have to trust me." I held my hand out to him. Loki looked up at my face. I winced. Half of his left ear had been torn off, but it looked like it had been treated. A white scar was engraved on the bridge of his nose. He parted his lips, his teeth yellow from lack of food and water. His glance turned to Zezran, then back to me, then down to my hand. A gulp slithered down his throat like a slug. His hand began to slowly approach mine before he caught it, the long slender fingers wrapping round my fingers. He rose to his feet, and looked down at me.

"Why do you want to help me? I am a monster." Loki whispered. I frowned squeezed his hand softly.

"You don't scare me. Aren't monsters supposed to be scary?" I cracked a smile, but no smile plastered Loki's face. Just the dead stare. I sighed. "I am Halec Vandra. This is my friend, Zezran." I gestured to Zezran. Loki looked at Zezran, his grip on my hand tightening.

"Hi. I'm sorry for punching you, Loki." Zezran bit his lip. "You didn't deserve it. I was just angry. It won't happen again." I watched as the fear and the tension breathed out of Loki's system.

"Come on. Let's get you home." I tugged on Loki, leading him through the alleyways.

"Home..." He repeated, quietly, following me.

We couldn't take Loki down the streets, it was too obvious, and so we took the dark alleyways. Not many people went down them. And if there were people, they wouldn't care. We walked in awkward, heavy silence to my house. Zezran didn't even pep, which was unlike him. He was obviously a world away from his comfort zone, but he kept close. Loki's hand was like an icicle in mine. His fingers slowly stroked up and down my warm palm, and I knew he was nervous. When we came to my house, Loki perched himself onto the wooden chair in the corner of my living room. Zezran bid his farewells.

"Come to me if you have any problems." Zezran warned, and I nodded.

"I'm sure we'll be fine. See you." I pecked my friend's head. He smiled and nodded, before looking at Loki.

"Farewell Loki." Zezran stated. No reply. Zezran walked out. I shut the door, sighing.

_What have I let myself in for?_

I walked into the living room, and knelt down by the fire, bringing some life to the dead coals. As the fire crackled, I looked over at Loki. The man was looking out the window, letting the sunlight wearily touch his face. The light revealed new scars on his face, but extinguished others. There was no denying that Loki was handsome. His black greasy hair was like a dark waterfall as it cascaded down his face. Those dominant cheekbones that could easily cut iron. Those lips that looked like they give the most glorious kiss to a lucky girl. Those tired eyes that held a thousand galaxies. I didn't know what it was with him that made me like him. Maybe it was because he'd had his heart broken, stitched together, and broken again, and stitched together again. Whatever it was, I wanted to make him better.

I rose from the fireplace and got Loki 3 more blankets. All were ragged and rough to the touch, but were thick and could keep him warm. I went to him and wrapped them around him. I caught him watching me and I looked into his eyes.

"What?" I asked, nervously. He narrowed those green orbs.

"Don't stop." He whispered. "I'm..." He frowned, blinking, trying to find the word.

"You're?" I urged him. He looked like he was going to fall asleep at any moment so I fetched him a pillow from the sofa. I slowly moved his head forward, placed the pillow behind his head and lay it on the pillow. "Is that better?" I asked.

"Y-yes." Loki replied. He shut his eyes and I watched as his breathing began to grow slower and slower. I went to leave before getting pulling back but a ice dripped hand. I snapped my head round at him.

"I have a question." Loki mumbled, sleepily. "Is it over yet?"

"Is what over?" I questioned. But no reply.

Loki was peacefully sleeping. In my house. Ugh.

I trotted up the stairs, preparing to wash away the events of the day, and settle down for bed.


	5. Chapter 4 - Bath Time

**CHAPTER FOUR – Bath Time **

Dawn spread its lovely, bright arms through the cracks of the curtains. Its body of sunlight danced around my room, scaring away the night's darkness and gloom. It waltzed the walls, spun the ceiling and the ground got a show of ballet. The light's dances always fascinated me.

I was sat on my bed, knees against my chest. I couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts were buzzing around my head, shouting their questions, with no one to answer. I felt my muscles ache and head was heavy from exhaustion. Sleeping had no appeal, though. I needed to take care of Loki. He was my priority right now. He was the one with scars littered on his body, not me. Zezran would object to that, if he knew. I stood up, hearing the floorboards creak and click as I walked. Little flurries of dust rose from each floorboard and floated in the sunlight. I strode to my wardrobe, picking out what to wear. I decided upon a green dress. It went down to my knees and was short sleeved. Emeralds decorated the collar, sparkling brightly. I remember buying this dress when I was younger. When the sun shone brighter in Grasia, and when the nights were short.

Those times are gone.

I slipped on the dress and sunk my feet into some simple green flats to match. After tying my hair into a plait, I stood at the top of the staircase. I could already see what awaited me. I walked down cautiously and took in the sight before me.

"No..." I breathed.

My living room was wrecked. The couch was torn, photo frames were smashed, and vases were broken. The floor was sparkling with broken glass. Coal had been thrown against the wall, as I saw black marks and dents. Since the window was smashed also, it was unbearably cold. My eyes fell to Loki who was sat in the middle of the room. He sat upright, back completely straight, eyes facing in front of him, hands in a praying position in front of his mouth. His fingers grazed his lips. His shaggy, messy hair was even shaggier and messier. It was thrown over his face.

"Loki..." I said, sternly. I felt the glass crumble even more as I walked over to him. I towered over to him like a mother telling off her child. "Why did you do this?!" Loki didn't move.

"I killed her, Halec." He whispered, his fingers tapping against his lips. "She died because of me. I told him to take the stairs on the left. And she died." He looked up at me. Fingernail sized scratches scarred his face. I sighed and knelt down to him.

"Who? Who did you kill?" I asked, softly. His green eyes searched my gold ones. He was searching to find if I was trustworthy.

"I killed my mother." Loki's voice broke. Tears rolled down his scratched cheeks. I shushed him and wiped them away. Suddenly I felt myself shake. This was a prince. A royal son. He could have been king of Asgard one day. He was in line to the throne, and here he was, crying and wrecking my living room. All he felt was anger and sadness for his crimes. Was that not punishment enough? I rose to my feet.

"I am going to run you a bath. But first, you need to clean my living room. Because despite what you may think, I like this room." I ordered him. Loki frowned confused for a second. He took a look round and nodded.

"Oh." Loki stood, his legs shaking. He lazily waved his hand and the mess and clutter cleared itself. The broken vase banged and shook as the shards formed. The cracks disappeared and it floated back to the table. The photo frame flew past my head; I felt the wind as it flew round, the little shards of glass gripping onto it. It soon was placed on the fireplace once more. I smiled and nodded to him.

"Thanks." I gave him a smile. I saw his smile finally break through like a long awaited sun. His smile gave me butterflies in my stomach. But why? "Come on. Let's give you a bath." I sighed, walking to the stairs. I didn't feel his presence behind me and looked round. He remained where he standing.

"You...are going to bath me?" Loki asked. I didn't know if it was disgust or disbelief which tinted his voice. I nodded, nervously. Loki tilted his head and made his way to me, limping slightly. He narrowed his eyes, drilling his stare into my skull. I saw how his chest rose and fell softly.

"You need a bath. You reek of blood and vomit." I answered. Insulted, Loki folded his arms and pushed me aside. He trotted up the stairs, sulking. Obviously, he didn't like hearing the truth. I realised then, that Loki's mood was unpredictable. A few minutes ago, he was sobbing, pouring his heart out, and now he was grumpier than a dog without his bone. Sighing, I trot after him.

The bathroom was pure white. Tiled floor greeted my flats, and my footsteps echoed throughout the room. Loki stood at the door, taking the sight in. I kept the bathroom strictly clean. The thought of grime disgusted me. A vintage bath lay near the window. Golden taps reflected proudly and the white base was smooth to touch. Near to the bath was a sink. White and marble, sparkling clean. Loki took one step into the bathroom, wincing at the coldness of the tiled floor. He looked at me, then around again. The ceiling was decorated with crystals, shining in the sunlight. This entire room seemed to fascinate him greatly. I began to run the bath. As I turned the tap, hot water begun to pour into the bath, steam rising from the liquid. I had already set out some clothes out for Loki. There was a dark shirt, with a grey waistcoat, as well as some raven black trousers, and a white pair of pants. These were some of Zezran's clothes. He often stayed round if his landlord had thrown him out. I was sure he wouldn't mind Loki wearing them. Just until I could afford to buy him some other accessories. When the bath was finished, Loki eyed the water warily. He shut his eyes and breathed in the faint steam. He held his fingers in the water, letting them soak for a few moments, before looking at me. His brow creased his forehead in concern. Once again, his mood had clearly changed.

"It's alright. I will be here." I smiled, watching his concern slowly fade. "Here, let me help." I slowly took his cloak off. It made a light thud as it hit the floor, and I couldn't resist but glance at his backside. It was curved and...and it just looked peaceful upon his body. Gulping, I got lost in my fantasies and my hand began the long trek towards the cheek.

"Halec?" Loki interrupted, snapping me back to reality. He frowned at me.

"Sorry. Get in the bath." I cleared my throat. I mentally kicked myself. Loki obeyed and slipped into the bath. He hissed through his teeth as the water soaked his wounds. His hands gripped the side of the bath, as the water nibbled away the painful wounds, soothing them. He stared up into my eyes, a painful look in his eyes. I shushed him and pushed a strand of his dark hair behind his ear. "Its helping the wounds. Let me wash you." I said softly, getting the sponge.

A grunt erupted from his throat. "No. Let me have some dignity." He snatched the sponge from my hand. He got some soap and rubbed it in. He rubbed the sponge against his leg but moaned when the soap sucked into the cuts on his carves. I sighed.

"Let me do it." I growled, frustrated. Loki glared but I glared back. "Just close your eyes and let me." I turned away and ran the sponge across his leg. The water cascaded down the pale skin like water down a hillside. He moaned softly. He murmured a 'thank you', which made my heart flutter. I bathed the injured man, cleaning away the grime and dirt as well as the years of torture in the process. I missed his crotch area, letting him sort that out. I kept my desires silent. Despite how much I did want to clean his crotch, I knew he wouldn't want me to. And this, this whole bath time, is for him. It was peaceful, and for once, Loki was relaxed.

That was until; I saw blue skin journeying up his left arm. It had already claimed his fingers and wrist, his forearm. I looked up at his face. Half of his face was claimed by the ice skin. The other side was screaming in pain. His pale hand grabbed his ice one, tightly, trying to squeeze it out of him.

"LET ME GO!" Loki screamed.

"Never. I am you. Stop pretending." Another voice called from him. I stared in shock before holding Loki's cheeks.

"Loki, come back to me!" I pleaded. Loki stared into my eyes. And then..

"He will never come back." The voice laughed mockingly

It all happened so fast

The force of the blow

Which sent me to the ground.

Loki screaming my name as I hit the ground.

The blurred vision

The panting of my breath

And then darkness which swallowed me.


	6. Chapter 5 - Times Change

**Author's note: Sorry for such a late update! I've been stressing out lately about exams and stuff :( But updates will be regular from now on. Enjoy Chapter 5!**

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**CHAPTER FIVE – Times Change**

I was trapped in my mind. Sailing through the darkness like a lone boat on the darkest seas. I looked round, but I was blind. I ran forward, but I was paralyzing. I screamed but I was mute. I heard voices, but I was deaf. I felt the floor but I was in the air. The darkness was screaming my name but I couldn't reply. I swirled through endless spirals of confusion and pain. The pain struck me like a lightning bolt. My head felt heavier and wetter. I tasted blood on my lips. My arm ached and I couldn't move. I heard _him._

"Halec, can you hear me?" The smooth voice echoed through my head. "I am here for you, Halec. Zezran is on his way. I'm sorry." The voice stuttered. I wanted to reply but I couldn't move, let alone talk. I heard soft breathing and movement. Something incredibly cold touched my cheek. "Forgive me." Booming footsteps disturbed the voice. Another voice came into play.

"Loki, what the hell happened?" Voice number two asked. The footsteps bounded closer to me.

"She fell. I tried to catch her. She's breathing." The other voice replied. The cold on my cheek was replaced by warmth.

"Hal, open your eyes for me. It's Zezran." Voice number two stated. This one I recognised almost immediately. Pins and needles sparked in my fingers and toes. I wriggled my fingers slowly, letting myself take back control.

In my mind, I was screaming. Punching the walls of my locked brain.

"She's waking up." Zezran said, and I could practically feel his smile. I punched once more and my hand was mine again. I punched twice and my whole arm was under my control. I punched harder and faster until I had the steering wheel.

"Halec." Loki breathed. Loki...I roared in my head. I needed to break free. And I did. My eyes slowly began to open, blurred at first. I saw them. Zezran and Loki kneeling over me, concern carved into their faces. Loki's forehead creased with guilt and sadness while Zezran was smiling with relief. I took a glance down at Loki. He was fully dressed in the clothes I had set out for him. I was somehow proud. But god did he look good in them. The shirt was struggling to keep buttoned up, clinging tightly to the body. I was certainly distracted. Loki pouted and frowned before realising. He smirked and shook his head, turning away. Discouraged, I looked over at Zez.

"Oh gods, I'm so glad you're okay, Hal!" Zezran sighed, relief soaking his voice. I replied with a smile and attempted to sit up. A stabbing pain struck at my side like thunder. Zezran's brows knitted together in concern and assisted me. His burly hand clamped my arm and a friendly smile drew onto his face. "Take it easy, darling?" Zezran suggested and I nodded. He excused himself and moved out of the room. Silence fell. Just me and the man who stood by the window. His shadow was engraved into the wooden floorboards. The air was heavy with awkwardness. And we both felt it.

"You are foolish." He finally said. He turned to me. His raven black hair shuffled as he did. Loki's eyes drilled into mine again, sucking the life from me. Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat as he approached me. Why?

"Foolish." I repeated, "Why am I foolish, Loki? For helping a man in need?"

"I do not need anything from you, Halec." Suddenly his voice grew grittier. I was scared now. The look on his face was murderous. His breathing was slow. He was computing, figuring me out. He was solving my puzzle, cracking the code on how to get to me. "You are a pathetic boat-girl. Your city reeks of fish." A grin spread across his face. Not a kind one, far from that.

"If my plan had worked, I would have stomped on your pathetic port, crushed your villages, burned your boats, and devoured your fish and meat. I am Loki, of Jotunheim. I am not in need, nor am I a man." Loki stated, angrily. I just watched him in fascination. His voice quivered when he stated his origin. I tilted my head. No matter how many times he would deny it, Loki needed someone. It was written all over his face. God of Lies? More like the God of Loneliness.

During my time inside my head, I had thought about Loki a lot. About his reputation before and after the Midgardian incident. And about him himself. Did he have anyone to love? It was farfetched based on Loki's current state of mind. I doubt he'd even remember anyone who loved him. But I just thought about how Loki was a respected prince on Asgard. Surely, he got female attention. Both princes did, but Thor obviously got more. According to Zezran, Thor was out nearly every day celebrating over the slightest victory. When Asgardians partied, they partied hard. I had no idea why I was so interested in Loki. I was attracted to him, I suppose. I wanted to heal him, I wanted to help him. He was special. Loki held the spark in his eye, that little piece of glitter, which told me that he was different. I had no idea what that was. But I had never felt like this about someone before. I wanted to spend my time with Loki, making him laugh, making him happy. Happiness must have not reached his face in a while. I wanted to be the one who gave his happiness back. I wanted to be special to him.

I rose from the bed, moving the covers from me. The cold air hit my skin but that didn't matter. My bare feet padded over to him. A confused scowl replaced his scheming grin.

"You should be in bed." Loki said, eyeing my form in suspicion. "Zezran will be back. He won't be hap-" I placed my finger on his lips. The soft lips beneath my index finger pursed and stayed quiet. I had thought of this moment. The moment where it all changed. Where we would know what we were feeling. But when I was there, standing in front of him, staring up into those beautiful eyes, I knew what I was feeling. I just had to hope that he felt the same way.

"Loki. I am going to say something to you. You mustn't speak until I give you permission, understood?" I questioned, one of my brows rising. Loki stared before nodding slowly. He remained silent.  
"Loki, you are a broken vase. Once proud and respected, admired, and now shattered on the floor. But broken things can be fixed. They can be put back together and restored back to their former glory. No matter how many scars stalk your body, no matter how many times you tell me you are no man, no matter how much you've been through, you are beautiful. Your eyes shine as bright as the stars themselves. And your heart is as big as the moon. You shout, and you yell, and you destroy. But I know there's a prince in that cage around your heart. It's time to come out now. The demons have had their fun, now it's time to show everyone that they are wrong about you. They say you are a traitor, I don't believe a word they say. They say you are a God of Lies. The lies you tell are a defensive mechanism. So they don't see what you have become, and become ashamed. But they have nothing to be ashamed of. Loki, you are a man of beauty, wisdom and intelligence. All that you've gone through, all the heartache you have faced, all the disappointments you have encountered are the first tunnel. It's time for you to come out of that tunnel. It will be hard. But I believe," I paused, placing my hand on his cheek. ", you can do this. You are special, and me? I just want to be special to you."

I couldn't quite pinpoint what Loki was feeling at this point. His eyes were sparkling with tears and his lips were quivering. He looked like he was about to cry, but his fist were clenched tightly by his sides. His whole frame was tense and shaking. I smiled sweetly and placed a light kiss against his cheek. The coldness of the cheek startled me at first. I looked back at him and whispered. "You can talk now." Loki made an 'O' shape with his lips as he exhaled deeply.

"Y-...you really think I can do this?" Loki quivered. I knew he wasn't being manipulative. The flare of mischief had been extinguished for now. I nodded. "And you will help me?" He questioned again. And again, I replied with a firm nod. He leaned down to me and pecked my cheek. My right one. The cold lips against my warm and flustered cheek was soothing. I exhaled silently. He leaned up and smiled a little. "You think you are not special?" I shook my head and ducked my head.

Fingers stroked my chin.

"Think again, Halec." He edged closer to my lips. The kiss was approaching. I had been dreaming about this-

"What in Odin's name?!" A voice exclaimed from the door. I looked round. Zezran stood there, watching me and Loki who were moments from kissing, shocked splattered onto his face.


	7. Chapter 6 - A Soldier's Love Story

**Authour's Note: Hello guys! :) This is written in Zezran's point of view! Hope you enjoy x**

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**CHAPTER SIX – A Soldier's Love Story**

**(written in Zezran's point of view)**

I stared at them. My best friend and the maniac. They were seconds from kissing. If I hadn't have interrupted them, who knows what would have happened. I love Halec. She was my best friend. But this was too much.

I had taken an oath. To respect, to follow my king's commands. My king's command was punish his bastard son. I had to follow his command.

"Zezran..." Halec breathed, shocked to see me. I looked at her, seeing embarrassment spread across her features. A bruise had purpled onto her skin. I couldn't deal with this.

"I..." I began, struggling to get the words out. "I need to go." And despite Hal calling my name and the shout of 'Dont be so stupid!', I exited the house.

The day was still young, and the cool breeze was still drifting. I made my way through the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Many people knew me, I was a famous warrior. Many wondered why I hadn't become a warrior of Asgard, become top dog. Honestly? I didn't think I was capable to leave this place. It was my home, my birthplace, and leaving all that behind, felt daunting. I turned into a tavern.

Maybe I could catch the Warriors Three before they left for Asgard.

Maybe I could talk to the Lady Sif.

The tavern _(which went by the name of The Eight Legged Horse) _was heavy with the stench of alcohol, tobacco and grease. I felt the sawdust on the floor through my golden sandals. I adjusted my golden headband as if to get ready for whatever this place had in store. This tavern was renowned for the fights and squabbles. But today, after what I had just seen, I need to unleash some anger and angst. I took a seat on a stool beside the bar. It was rough and I hung my golden-plated cape around the back, letting it fall down. My fingers ran through my messy, black hair, tufting the mess up, and then letting it fall. So many thoughts, so little sense.

I should have seen it coming. It was so obvious, looking back. Loki and Hal had grown close. I shouldn't have agreed to help him. He was a scheming son of a-

"Are you Zezran?" A voice pepped beside me. My eyes drifted to the woman sat beside me. A kind smile was upon her rosy lips. Her cheekbones were dominant on her face, almost piercing the pale skin that covered her face. My eyes lingered onto her gorgeous ones. Hazel stared into me, and I felt her analyzing me. My heart skipped a beat.

"Lady Sif..." I couldn't say this without cracking a smile. She smiled further and nodded, her black ponytail bouncing up and down. I held my hand out. "I am the man you're looking for. I am Zezran."

She took my hand.

And a spark of energy surged through me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you after all this time. Fandral and Falstagg speak of you highly. Say you beat them twice each." She reminisced, taking a sip of red wine from her glass. Red wine was the spirit of goddesses. Fitting, don't you think?

I nodded proudly. "I have done so. It was not as simple as it sounds, mind you. They put up a good fight."

"Do you think you could take on me?" She replied, raising one of her brows. I stared at her, stunned. I had dreamt of this day. Lady Sif was a tough fight, simply because people didn't expect such power from a woman. I thought different. Women were just as powerful as men were when they laid their hands on a weapon. Sif was known for being quick and agile on the battlefield, similar to me.

"I think I could, yes." I smirked, giving her a teasing look. She smiled back and took one final gulp of her wine before jumping off the stool. In one swift movement, her two-bladed spear was out. It shone majestically in the low light of the tavern. A mischievous grin stared up at me.

"Let's see if you are right, solider." Sif stated, getting into her warrior stance. I rolled my eyes, feeling a bit overly-smug.

"If you insist, my lady." I got down from my stool and unleashed my sword. It was pure gold, made from starlight itself. The blade stood long, unbelievably sharp. Little engravings were written on the side. They read:

**_The sword of the Phoenix chooses her own master._**

Sif was undeterred though, and lunged for me with the spear. My sword grated against hers, the sound of blade upon blade silencing the whole tavern. Suddenly, we had an audience. Sif smiled at me, and winked. That simple action melted my heart. She was **beautiful**. Whether it was the way she walked, or the way she talked, whatever it was, she was the holder of my heart. And she had no idea of any of this. I grunted as I got away from my sword, pushing her with the sword. She circled me.

"You are stronger than I anticipated, solider." She nodded, impressed. "I love the cape by the way." She said sarcastically, and pointed to my golden cape which followed me wherever I went.

"Making fun of a man's fashion to distract him? Good move." I pouted, running my fingertips down the edge of the feathered cape. "But that's not happening." I lunged for her, catching her off guard. I hit the spear sideways, knocking it out of her grasp. The blade of her sword was against her neck.

I'd won. And as the tavern erupted into victorious cheers and chants of my name, I put my sword back into its slash, and held my hand out to the beaten warrior. She took my hand and sighed.

"You have beaten me. I didn't think a warrior from Grasia would do such a thing." Sif stated, staring at me with a spark in her eyes. I shrugged.

"I don't many people thought you of a warrior upon first glance." I panted, tired out. Sif seemed perfectly fine. Her stance was still alert, legs bent by the knees. The crowd slowly went back to their own happenings, but Sif still stared at me.

I saw her glance down at myself. Her eyes taking in the whole picture, my bare chest and my legs, and then she climbed her way back to my face.

"You are..." Sif started, the gears turning in her head to find the right word, "...unbelievable."

I raised a brow and leaned against the bar. "I hope that's a good thing."

"Course it is." She took a stool, ordering some more wine. I ordered ale. Silence fell between us.

Until,

"Zezran, I must confess something to you." She began, looking over at me. I nodded. Sif went back to her glass of wine, tracing her finger around the edges. "Asgard has not been fairing well. Loki has escaped from the hellish prison. We don't know where he could have gone. From what I have heard, he is not in the best shape, mentally or physically. He was tortured down there. Some part of me worries for him. Another part hungers to see him dead. He's ruined Asgard's reputation. He's soiled it. I wouldn't confess this to anyone, not even the Warriors Three. They are too drunk by now." A silly smile rode those lips. "I just want everything to be okay, you know?" An awaiting stare hollowed into my eyes. But I couldn't answer. I knew what had to be done.

I took her hand which was on the bar and leaned forward. I kissed her softly, and was surprised when I felt her kissing back. How long was it since she'd felt a man's loving touch, I wondered. Her arms wrapped themselves around my neck, her fingers tangling themselves in the hair on the back of my head. The curls twisted and twirled around her fingers. I pulled out of the kiss and gave her an affectionate smile.

"Everything will be okay, angel." I whispered, moving a strand of hair away from her face, wrapping it around her ear. She looked up at me, love swelling into those eyes. Sif planted a kiss on my cheek and rested her head against the crook of my neck. I felt the tension slowly seep away from her being. I took in her scent. It was the sweet aroma of roses. My hand ran down her back comfortingly as the last of the tension went away.

"Thank you, Zezran." I heard her whisper before a delicate kiss was pecked onto my shoulder.

"All those times I've seen you. In those parades, in the ceremonies. I have wanted to whisk you away from everything. Make you mine; hold you like this when the sun rose and until it set. Today, is a dream come true." I sighed happily. Sif smiled and looked up at me.

"I saw you too. I just...never knew what to say. Many warriors are threatened by me, by what I can do if they make a wrong move." Sif whispered. "Why aren't you threatened?"

"I am not threatened because you are a kind, loving, smart, strong person. You wouldn't kill unless it was just or right. I must admit that I love you, Lady Sif. And I am scared of those I love." I whispered back, but I don't think the words went in, as the woman just stared at my lips. She bit her own and held me closer to her, as if she thought I would drift away. Sweet kisses were laid against my collarbone, each leaving a mark. I looked round, smiling as the Warriors Three were staring at me. I gave them a wave, and Fandral waved back slowly, shocked at what he was seeing.

My hand was tugged. "Let's go." Sif stated, taking my hand and leading me away. I put my ale down on the table and went with her.

My thoughts of Loki and Hal had suddenly disappeared. Because for once, this night was about me and what I wanted.

And I wanted Sif.


End file.
